The Fatherless Child
by Ella O'hara
Summary: Christine is pregnant. Who is the happy father? THe first chapter may suprise the reader accustomed to the ordinary. Uh oh......
1. Prelude to Disaster

Disclaimer: I do not own POTO. And if I did, I would not be rotting in a suburban wasteland right now.

Sigh I hope my public likes my writing. This idea came to me during a science dissecting experiment. Let's hope it's not as grotesque, considering the circumstances. Ribbit.

Ch. 1: Prelude To Disaster

I felt tears sting my eyes when I first laid my sight on her. She had to be the most perfect baby I had ever seen, with her rosy pink skin and beautiful blue eyes, just like her mother. The child stopped wailing when Christine took her in her arms. In spite of myself, I let out a small sob. I had never thought this day would come. This was the day of my child's birth.

_As Christine cradled the child, I saw a spasm of fear flick across her face, which replaced her doe-eyed gaze at her baby, our baby. " Christine, she is perfect, just like you." I murmured as I brushed a lock of her golden hair from her sweaty face. The baby girl was making muffled cooing noises in her embrace. Having only doted upon the both of them since the moment of the baby's conception, the woman just made a weak gesture of thanks. " Christine?" I asked, with worry clear in my tone. A tear suddenly fell from her azure eyes. I caught it. _

_" I can never see this baby again!" she wailed, flinging her pillow to the tiled floor. I tried my hardest to keep my composure. " That's not true, Christine. This child is yours and yours to keep." I gently took the baby from her, cradling my daughter in my arms. " He can never find out. His heart would be shattered forevermore. I just can't do that to him, after all he's done for me." I stroked her head with the back of my hand. " Dear, please don't think that I do not care. I care so very much." She seemed to be inconsolable. I looked at he child, then at Christine, then back again. I sighed deeply. There was something that I had to do. _

" _I-I will care for her, raise her, and do whatever I have to do, so he will never find out. When you return to me, you will be able to watch her grow up." _

_Christine looked utterly shocked. She was apparently stunned, for I had very little experience for caring for anything other than myself. She gazed at the baby, tears falling onto the child's jet-black fuzz. " I have no choice, by the looks of it." I patted her hand comfortingly. " You must stay here until you are well again." She attempted a feeble smile, and stoked my hand in return. _

_" What shall we name her? The child has to have a name." Christine looked mildly excited, as if one had just found a kitten and was going to christen it. " How about…Illana?" I shook my head. " Alright…How about Sophie?" Again I shook m head. I glanced at the baby. These names just didn't fit her, my child. " Christine, how about the name…Delight? Delli for abbreviation." She looked enchanted. " Fine, Delight it is, my dear." She kissed the sleeping baby girl._

_With a more severe air, she jerked her gaze up to me. " You realize how hard taking care of a baby is? I'm not sure you do." I put up my hands in a mock fashion. " Christine, I promise you, if this child ever wails out of discomfort, you can personally run me through with a sword." Perhaps this was a bit of exaggeration, but she got my point. " I put my arm around her shoulder, playing with her tresses of blonde hair. " Look at her. Isn't she beautiful?" Christine sighed with happiness. " This is your child, Erik. Care for her well._

Wo. Suspense!


	2. What to Expect When Expecting

Wow. I LIKED my first review so much; I'm going to write a second chapter right off the bat. Fondest greetings to you all! Thank you, I Despise Raoul, for your amusing review. " Third Erik pokes 2nd with stick" loved it! This is before the baby was born, in case you are wondering. Careful! I should rate this M for, erm, and adult content. If you didn't know that babies came from such situations as the one that follows, you should consult you parents, a clergy member, or a dirty Internet site. Just kidding about the last one.

Ch. 2: What to Expect when Expecting

Christine lay, sick and miserable, under her eiderdown quilt, her pillow nearly stifling. Raoul was rushing around in a mad frenzy, packing his thins and kissing her every chance possible. The Arctic Expedition had been called back on, and he was bound to a contract. The French Navy had come knocking at his door just a week ago, announcing the soon departure. She had to admit, he looked very handsome in his tri corner hat.

" Christine, you realize that I'll be gone for two years?" Raoul had repeated this statement for the umpteenth time this week. " That we will be parted for two years? Oh, God, I don't know if I can do this." Christine had hugged him each time, reassuring him that their love would only grow stronger by distance. The wedding would have to be put off for two years. " Christine, would you hand me those breeches? The green ones?" She handed him the suggested item. " I will write you every day… Christine, are you all right? You look ill." Raoul fussed over her like a mother hen. She tried her hardest to keep her nausea down until his cab was gone. Of course she would miss him dearly, but she had to have him gone, and soon.

A bell sounded outside, and Raoul jumped. His trunks were near the door, neatly packed, but he was not prepared to leave his lover. " Dear! You cab is here!" She called into his parlor in a croaky voice. He rushed to embrace her, crushing her ribs in a bear hug. " Oh, how I shall miss you! I will write you every day…. Even twice a day!" He was making silent curses and loud oaths as the cabbie hauled his luggage to the carriage. Christine forced a few tears, and her willingly wiped them from her ivory cheeks. " I love you, Christine." He murmured as he climbed into the cab. " I love you, too." She could feel the hot flush of sickness rush through her body. She watched until his cab was out of sight, but then sprinted back into the house and was violently sick in the bathtub.

The woman weakly wiped her mouth. What was going on? She placed her hands on her stomach, uncertain. _I have been having cramps for weeks now, _she thought as she fought off another wave of queasiness, _and the morning sickness has been perfectly awful._

For a moment, she was motionless. Then, as if some light had flicked on in her head, she let out a yelp. _I'm pregnant!_ She screamed silently. The room seemed to sway dangerously. Oh, unhappy girl! How she cried! Usually, when women discover that they are expecting, they are joyful. She felt nothing but utter mortification. _I'm pregnant! _The thought just seemed to be very wrong, floating through the innocent, twenty year-old mind of Christine Daae. If society were to find out, they would forever scorn her. Raoul would die of heartbreak. Her child would be forever ridiculed as a monster and a bastard.

" Oh, dearest lord. Suppose my baby carries the face of Him?" She thought that she would surely faint. As the day drifted by, she lay on the bathroom floor, lost in thought.

_It had been a dark, stormy day. Christine had wandered down to the lake, calling the name of her teacher. " Erik!" the name echoed in the labyrinth. A hand was placed gently on her shoulder. She had turned around slowly, savoring the mystery. His dark eyes had burned with a passion that she had never seen before. As if by hypnosis, she forgot all of her misgivings about him and drew him close. All thoughts of Raoul were scattered across the floor like marbles. He had seemed surprised at her advances, but returned the fervor in her kisses. She new that he had dreamed about this for years. _

_Weeks later, when she found herself pregnant, Christine would have said that it were pure lust. Pure lust that had gotten them across the inky black lake as fast as it did. Pure lust that had driven them past the organ, the candlebras, and the mannequin of Christine. They had dropped to the floor on a bearskin rug, Erik's mask flung to the side. Christine cared not. A tear came to her eye as the strap of her dress came slowly sliding down her shoulder. Erik wiped it away, running his gloved hand up her back. They were alone in the world, as far as any of them were concerned. Then, caught in a tremulous ecstasy, they extinguished the candles hurriedly and let their passions roam freeing that hot, heavy darkness. _

_A/N: Do I seriously have to continue? Come on, you are big boys and girls! Use your imaginations! I really don't want to type the rest. I'm only ----teen! Throw me a bone!_

When Christine awoke from her stupor, the sky was dark and cloudy. She sat up, rubbing her head dazedly. For a moment, she could not remember why she was on the bathroom floor. Then she got a little uncalled for reminder. A kick in her stomach knocked some sense back into her. _Oh, yeah, _she thought_, I'm carrying Erik's baby. Oh, damn. _Without another moment, she sprinted out the front door into the night, calling for a taxi. One stopped, the disheveled driver giving her a weary nod. She leaped inside, her hand on her belly. " To the opera house, please." The man cracked his whip, and the carriage sped off into the night.


	3. The Happy Father

Gee. This leaves me in a very tight spot. I would ask my readers what they wanted to happen next, but hey, it's against da rules. Oh Well. Enjoy. I need to go mull over the void that is my idea stash.

Ch.3: The Happy Father

Raoul sat at his box-sized desk, feverishly writing letter upon letter to send to his beloved back in Pairs. His fellow sailors were outside on the frigid deck, smoking or yelling about politics. The poor young lover had written over a dozen letters since his ship had sailed that morning, each becoming more and more sickly in structure. He had attempted to write her a romantic poem, but found his poetry skills even more lackluster than his writing ones. Other sailors made fun of the brainless lover, calling him a pansy and a fool. A disturbing detail of the wooden surface caught his eye. " Dear God, I'm all out of stamps!" He then promptly fell over, banging his head on the bunk. He was found hours later, mumbling mindlessly " Christine… " He moaned as his fellows hoisted him onto a bunk. A man by the name of Wendell took a long drag on his cigarette, staring at the motionless form of the Vicomte. " Poor sap," He wheezed, " He's done gone lost his mind and we haven't been outta port for twenty four hours. He'll be a sniveling ball in two years, by the looks of things."

Christine leapt out of he carriage, hurling a twenty-franc note at eh cabdriver. He grunted in thanks, clattering off into the night. She slowly walked up the stairs of the Opera Populaire, shivering from the cold. Everybody would just be heading to bed now, his or her candles being extinguished one by one. The heavy door creaked an agonizing, perpetual creak that seemed to echo through the deserted front hall. With her hand on her stomach again, she hurried off to the dormitories.

" Meg?" She whispered into the darkness. The rhythmic inhaling and exhaling of the sleeping chorus girls was almost noisy, a snore emitting from the darkness. She repeated her friend's name. A figure stirred.

" Christine? Is that you?" The blonde ballerina sat up in her bed, rubbing her eyes blearily. Christine motioned violently for her to come into the hall.

" Meg, I need your help." The woman said in a low voice. Meg now held an expression of pure concern. " Anything. What's the matter?"

With a deep breath, she said, " I'm pregnant."

Meg was silent, then let out a high-pitched squeal of delight. " Christine, that's wonderful news! Oh, Raoul will be so happy!" Christine clapped a hand over her mouth. Meg's brown eyes practically spat confusion. She removed her hand and motioned for her to come closer. " Meg, this is not Raoul's baby." Meg put a hand over her mouth, her eyebrows high with horror and intrigue. " If it's not his, then whose is it?" She remained calm, much like a caring sister would. The girl motioned for her to draw even closer. " It's _His, _Meg." Christine whispered with a frightened glance at the ceiling and the floor.

Meg was silent again. " Y-you mean that it's _Erik's _baby that you are carrying?" She could practically hear Meg's heart stop. " Oh, my God."

Then Meg took Christine's hand, and with a gamey look in her eyes, said, " Alright! Let's hear some dirty details! That guy must be an absolute animal!" Only joking. She so did not say that. You only wish she did :).

" Well… have you told him yet? You are very lucky that Raoul's not around." Christine sighed. She knew this was true. " I will go to him now and ask him what I should do. Oh, God help me." Meg clutched her hand tightly in hers. Her face was quite pale. " Christine," She whispered, " I'm here for you. You can count on me for anything, you know that." Meg squeezed her hand, and then went back to bed, not finding any sleep all night.

As Christine descended those stairs to the hell below, her heart was pounding like a snare drum. Oh, what could he possibly say to this? Would he be happy? Knowing him, probably not. Perhaps he would be sad? As she tried to force the butterflies fro her nerves, a length of rope twined around her neck. The girl cried out as two powerful hands forced her arms behind her. She whirled around, looking a livid Erik in the eyes.

" You have some nerve to be showing your face around here again!" He roared. A bit of spittle rolled from his mouth. He was pretty damn angry. " I ought to string you up by your throat and leave you for the birds! How dare you?" The rope cut into her throat, her arms beginning to ache. " I-I" She could not get her words out. The man lifted her up and forced her against the stone wall. " How could you do that to me?" he shook the terrified girl as he spoke. " How could you toy with my emotions like that and then leave me like that? Was I nothing more than a quick fix to you?" The masked man was ranting now, tears stinging his eyes.

" Give me one good reason why I shouldn't tighten this rope. I could use one now." He looked fully intent on strangling her. You had to be careful with a man like him. " First of all, put me down. You may want to sit down for this." He narrowed his eyes, and then let her crumple to the floor. Erik plopped himself down on a step, Christine keeping her distance at a good yard. " Erik, please do not hurt me. There is a life more valuable than mine to protect." His gaze jerked up. " What are you saying?" he hissed.

" Erik, I'm pregnant."

The man was motionless for a moment, then a wide sneer spread across his face. " Well, my congratulations," He said in a mocking tone, " Who, may I ask, is the happy father?" She shot him her worst look.

" Oh, do not say that. You know perfectly well that it is you." At this, he froze, his fingers at his temples in mid –rub. He had been entirely sure that it had been the Vicomte whelk, but certain that it had not been he. With a disbelieving gaze, he looked up at her. She attempted a weak, shy grin.

" Oh, dear. What have I done?" He let out an expression of bitter remorse. Her life was ruined. " Well, have you told Raoul?"

She shook her head innocently. " I just found out this morning. He went on that Arctic expedition. He will not return for two years. He has no idea." Erik cradled his forehead in his hands, emitting a deep, dramatic sigh. " I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

" Well, for now, the only thing we can do is wait."


	4. Letters From the Arctic and Paris

Hmm. This could take some time. My vault of good ideas is empty, replaced by ones that include setting a flowerbed on fire. Do tell me if this installment is stupid. I hate it when I have no ideas. It's like having a milkshake and no straw. In other words, it sucks! Forget it. This is a very fop-lovery chapter for all you Raoul lovers out there.

Ch. 4: Letters From the Arctic

_Dear Christine,_

_This is probably the tenth letter that I have sent you today, and I apologize if I am annoying you. I have not given you a proper chance to respond, but I count the hours until I read your thoughts. The arctic is a barren, cold place and my fellow sailors are cumbersome company. I will not trouble you with my woes right now. How are you? I feel terrible leaving you all alone in that flat of ours. The engagement ring on my finger is the force keeping me going, for when I return home, my lovely wife will be waiting for me. Once again, I send my love and fond regards._

_Your Always,_

_Raoul_

Christine folded the letter up and tossed it to the floor amongst the others she had read earlier that day. It was true, she missed him deeply, for a portion of her heart belonged to him. His boyish nature and kind ways were very endearing. She had embellished upon these detail of her fiancée after she was so rudely forced to the wall by another shareholder of her feelings.

Their flat had seemed quite empty for the three weeks Raoul had been gone, lacking his melodious, warm voice and hearty laughter. She sighed deeply. The overwhelming, eating pang of guilt in her heart had grown by the day, fueled by the little stranger that she had with her always. Horrible episodes of anxiety would come at the most inappropriate times, but thankfully, she had somebody to help her. Meg would come by at all hours of the night or day, coming daily to check on Christine. Madame Giry was still on forced holiday, so she still had no news of the baby.

With the best handwriting she could muster at the moment under her shaky mental state, she began to write a reply to Raoul's letter.

_Dearest Raoul,_

_I thank you kindly for all of your letters. You, my dear, are certainly not irritating in the least. I enjoy hearing from my silly little lover. You ask, and I am well. Paris sends it regards to you. They are missing their favorite Vicomte. Well, I must keep this letter brief, as society demands my presence. I hope these two years go by quicker than they have been. _

_All my love,_

_Christine_

She put down her pen, staring at the written lie that her fiancée would receive in a few weeks. Christine shuddered, placing the wax seal on the envelope. Two years was a long time. Raoul was never to know about this child.

Meanwhile, back underground; another individual was nearly losing his already sporadic mind. With a handful of darts, he took out his unease on a helpless corkboard. He cared not when one had shattered a wine bottle, and another piercing a cello sitting in the corner. With this kind of eating worry, Erik could not muster the strength to care. Christine's life was ruined. His fault, all his fault. Those thoughts would chase each other around his mind, making the guilt even worse. There was something he had to do, all ha had to do was figure out what he could do.

I know, very short. But hey, schools on the verge of ending and there is a social life to be entertained. There is only so much I can do at the age of ----teen.


	5. The Return

Oh, God. I've hit a dead end. I'm afraid this and the next chapter might take some time to update. Oh well, better late than never.

Ch. 5: The Return

Madame Giry peered out the grimy windows of her carriage with concealed delight. The tiny suitcase in her lap filled with papers written about her life in Paris was the only proof that she had actually lived here before, that and her thick French accent.

Those two fools who ran the opera Populaire had forced her into a carriage, sending her away on a vacation without a choice. They had stated that she was overworked, but she had seen right through that weak alibi. She knew for a fact that they and almost everybody else feared her partnership with the fearsome opera ghost. It had been two months since she had been home, and she felt elation when the spires of the opera house appeared over the Parisian skyline.

Without another word, the he cabdriver, she stuffed a twenty-franc note in his hand. As the man clattered away behind his lame horse, he muttered an indecipherable curse about not being able to make a decent living anywhere in this damn city. Mme Giry made her way up the grand marble staircase much as a queen would, throwing her usual dirty looks at the golden nude statues. Before she could set her things down on the tiled floor, two men came bolting out a side office and sent her careening onto her bottom. It was the managers, worked up into a state of frenzy.

" Mademoiselle Giry!" Firmin cried, upsetting his stout companion's balance. She raised her thin eyebrow. They had never referred to her as " mademoiselle" before. Something very drastic must have been unfolding.

" Madame Giry! We desperately need your help! Your friend, the phantom, is apparently having some sort of a nervous breakdown. He's taking out his frustration on our tour guests!"

She inwardly rolled her eyes. How utterly predictable of Erik, taking out his rage on others.

As they led her to the scene of the haunt, an arm grasped hers and pulled her into a shadowy room she had not known existed. Firmin and Andre continued their rushed pace, oblivious to her absence.

Before she could say anything, a gloved hand clapped over her mouth, rendering her dumb. Two green eyes peered at her in the gloom. " Erik!" she hissed, snatching herself from his hold. " What the hell do you think your doing? And what's all this rubbish about your emotional meltdown?"

The masked man plopped himself heavily onto a dusty wooden bench. " Cecile, I have a really big problem." His words were garbled, as though he feared to speak them to her. " Cecile, Christine's pregnant and it's all my doing."

A/N: pardon the pun in that last statement.

Mme Giry let out a huge sigh that sounded suspiciously like a curse. " Well, I would consider that a big problem. What do you propose I do about it? And how did this happen anyway?"

Erik shot her his worst look. " You had little Meg. You know exactly how this came about. And would I be telling you this in such a manner if I knew what to do?" His eyes were narrowed, his voice now having an edge of bite to it. Cecile buried her face in her hands, and then turning to look him in the eye, flames now in them. Erik recoiled a bit. For such a small woman, she was frightening.

" You cannot do this to her and the Vicomte," she snapped, sticking her index finger in his face. " This baby could ruin both their lives. I will not allow you to do this to Christine." The woman furiously kicked a wooden sheep that stood nearby, while the phantom took a turn burying his face in his gloved hands.

" You realize that you will have to care for that baby, don't you?" At this, Erik jumped, eyes wide with fear. The elder Giry nodded, her arms crossed in content at his dilemma. He paced about the dusty room like an animal waiting for a natural disaster. " Yes," he muttered disconnectedly, " Yes. I will have to care for that child. It is my fault she is in this rut. But how, Cecile, am I supposed to take care of a baby? I can barely take care of myself!"

Cecile snorted. " Well, you are still my good friend, so I suppose it is my duty to teach you how." A Siamese cat had just wound past their legs, and she plucked it from the ground. " First lesson," she said slowly, holding the angered cat out at arm's length " is patience. You cannot yell at a child or force them to understand. Here." At this, Giry gave him the cat. For a minute, he just stared at it, and then the beast began to claw its way up his arm.

And so ended the first parenting lesson, Madame Giry leaving the room with tears of laughter in her eyes and Erik returning to his labyrinth with scratches all over his face and arms and curses on his tongue.


	6. Three Men and a Baby

All right! This kind of attention rules! Sniff you guys are so nice.

P.T.O

Some of my other works have been neglected unread and unreviewed it would give me great happiness to read some reviews from my favorite gaggle of phans about my more obscure, stupid writings.

Ch. 6: Three Men and a Baby

Russell stared at the unconscious form of Raoul de Chagney with an air of indifference, chomping on his cigarette viciously. He had been assigned to watch over the brainless boy, making sure he didn't hurt himself or the expensive furniture. The young fool was in a shaky state of mind, pining himself away for some wench named " Christine", whoever that was. As the Vicomte began to stir in his cot, Russell blew smoke rings in his face. This seemed to wake him up a bit.

As Raoul continued to choke the smoke out of his lungs, Russell drew something from his pocket and held it behind his back. " Look here, boy," he taunted, " I gots something here yous might want."

Raoul glared at him weakly, fidgeting with the collar of his nightdress. " There is nothing you have that I could possibly want." Although sharpness was usually uncommon of Raoul's nature, it did not surprise Russell. " Very well. I suppose Christine wouldn't mind waiting a few more months." At this, the letter was immediately snatched from his hands and he was forced from the tiny recuperation cabin. He dusted himself off with an air of indignity. " How rude." He muttered as he lit up another cigarette, stalking of to pick a fight with another sailor.

Raoul ripped open the letter, sending the envelope out the open porthole. He had been waiting months since her last His eyes seemed to blur as he tried to read it, but it came out clear after a few minutes:

_Dearest Raoul,_

_I have received many letters from you, sometimes two a day! I just want to let you know, I keep them under my mattress to remind me of you. Can you believe you've been gone for nine months already? I thought this kind of time would never pass. I await the time when I can hold you in my arms again. Once more, Paris sends its love!_

_Yours truly,_

_Christine_

A/N: Oh, that made me gag…

He held the note close to his heat, cradling it as a toddler would a doll. At that moment, Russell walked back in, swinging a half empty bottle of whiskey. " Come now, you damn Vicomte," He drawled, catching sight of the letter, " forget your adolescent pining and come have a drink with the boys." Russell threw the bottle. Raoul caught by the tips of his pale fingers. _I might as well; _He thought as he followed Russell, _this would be a very long expedition if they think I'm an unstable moron._

Meanwhile, back at the Daily Globe:

" Meg! Help me!" Christine cried, waking her friend from her light sleep. Meg jolted awake, falling off her cot in frenzy. She picked herself up from the floor, her brown eyes running over Christine's body with horror. They had insisted that all of them live at the flat until the baby was born, and when I say all of them, I mean all of them.

" Mamma! Mamma, come quick!" Meg cried into the next room, sending the two figures on separate couches springing from their rest. Madame Giry rushed into Christine's bedroom, fumbling with her lamp. The girl was very pale, her breathing heavy and labored. The elder Giry put her hand to her throat, determination igniting her volley of commands. " Meg, go fetch me a pail of water, Christie, continue breathing the way you are," She shoved the lamp into the hands of the person behind her. " As for you, Erik, you stay out of the way!" Meg scrambled to the well and back, the bucket shaking in her hands. Christine moaned, putting her hand to her forehead. Erik stood transfixed where he was, confused as to what he should be doing.

" Erik, get out of here! Scram!" Madame Giry barked at him, slamming the door in his face. The door reopened in a moment, a bottle of wine forced into his hands. " Make yourself comfortable. We will be here awhile."

Hours later, Erik sat in the same spot he had been for nearly half a day, his forehead in his hands, staring at the floor. The bottle of wine was long gone, so his nerves were on fire with anticipation and worry. Suppose the baby carried his face, the face of Satan? Suppose Christine or the child were hurt in birth? What if Christine were to die? Judging by the horrible cries of pain from the bedroom, it did not sound like a pleasant experience. In spite of himself, Erik was happy that he had been plopped in the next room like a naughty, underfoot child.

Suddenly, the door creaked open and a clearly exhausted Madame Giry stepped out. From behind her, Meg was covered in something horrible, the girl looking nearly ready to collapse. A soft, weak cry issued from behind the pair of them. Erik was on his feet in an instant. " What's wrong? Why is the baby crying?" Cecile chuckled, waving him off in her normal haughty fashion. " No," she sighed, " no. The baby is fine, and she is beautiful."

Somewhere in his chest, Erik felt his heart stop. " She? It's a girl? Oh, lord…" The smile on his face was answer enough, the mask nearly falling off from the rising dimples. " Come see them." With quaking knees, he entered the room, catching sight of the weary Christine. In her arms, a little pink raisin of a daughter stirred, letting out a tiny yawn. The child was nothing like he had forecasted, holding no signs of inherited deformity, just a head covered with jet-black hair. Before the pair of them could say a thing, the phantom fainted dead away. Madame Giry gave him a little kick in the ribs, rolling her eyes. For such a dangerous man, he was such a drama queen.

For further reference to the birth, see chapter one. That's what it's there for, duh:)


	7. Delighted

You guys are awesome! **Cry, cry, **this will be a very dramatic chapter.

Ch.7: Delight

Raoul nearly threw himself off the boat when the uppermost spires of Paris came into view. Other sailors were rushing around, shaving and fighting over tiny bottles of cologne, while the Vicomte eagerly awaited the falling of the gangplank on Parisian docks. The expedition had been cut short, for the captain had found that their rations were too little and they would starve if they did not hotfoot it back to France. That was the kind of thing the young man had been praying for.

When the side of the ship banged against the wooden docks, all jumped and scrambled to get their trunks prepared for disembarking. The Morse code message had obviously caused a stir in the city, a multitude of humanity cheering their arrival. Raoul pushed his way off the boat, fighting the urge to kiss the dock in relief. The other sailors ran right into the arms of beloved families and sweethearts. Nobody came from the crowd for him.

Ina frenzy of excitement, he began to run back home, for Christine would surely be waiting for him. She must not have gotten the message, he concluded. Not caring about the slamming sensation of his heart against his ribs, the Vicomte continued to sprint the fifteen miles to the flat, where is beloved bride waited for him.

Amongst the dream she was enjoying, Christine heard the frantic yells of a man echoing in her head. Suddenly, she was roughly shaken awake, the terrified face of Erik sliding into focus. " Christine! You must wake up! Raoul is coming!" His voice was scared, sounding strange to all in the room. Madame Giry was packing her suitcase messily, while Meg cleaned up any trace of their ever being there. The woman sat bolt up, her stomach falling into her knees. " Oh, my God! He's not supposed to be back until next year, oh, I am dead."

" No you're not!" Erik said in a low voice, brushing crumbs from his shirt. He looked at her, and then cast his eyes on Delight's cradle. "Oh, no, it's too early. She'll die." Christine moaned. " She's only two weeks old!" Madame Giry picked up the slumbering child and placed her in Christine's arms. The baby gave a small twitch, evoking a smile on Christine's snow-white face. Madame Giry put her hand on her shoulder, saying, " Don't worry, my dear. I will not let a thing happen to her. If she so much as catches a cold, Erik will pay dearly at my hands."

The masked man held back a snort. He doubted that Madame Giry could hurt him, as frightening as she could be. " She is right. I won't let anything happen to her, I promise you." Meg came back into the room, panting. " I-I hate to spoil this moment, but we are running out of time! Raoul will be back any moment!" Everybody exchanged glances, and then all gazed fell on the baby. With a long sigh, Christine handed the child to Erik, who quickly wrapped her in a blanket.

" You can come visit her any minute of the day, you know." He murmured, stroking Delight's black fuzz. " We must go. Is everything cleaned up? Is Christine in any state to greet him? Good." Madame Giry gathered up the bags, swinging open the front door. All three fleeing individuals looked back with worry upon Christine. She had tears in her eyes, but looked well enough. With the baby between them, Erik gave her a gentle hug and strode through the door. The others gave Christine well wishes and departed after the phantom. A rickety carriage sat in front of the flat, a mangy-looking horse in the harness. He wrapped his black cloak about him, and then hopped in the driver's seat, Delight nestled in Meg's arms. With a final parting glance, the quartet clattered off into the fog of the morning.

The soon to be Vicomtess clutched her robs around her, then hurried back inside to prepare for her fiancée's arrival. The whole time she was dressing, huge, racking sobs enveloped her until she fell to the floor in a miserable heap. She had never imagined giving up a child would be this hard, mother's instinct worsening the situation.

After she was out of tears, she stood up and inspected herself in the mirror. She had managed to put on a gorgeous peacock colored dress and a pair of silken slippers. Christine frantically fixed up her golden curls, wiping tears from the tresses. Her face stared back in the mirror. The girl stared in horror.

Her face was red and slick with tears, her azure eyes puffy with misery. She ran to the washbasin, mopping herself up. The end results were much more pleasing. As she made the bed, the girl tried her hardest to keep her sobs curbed. She could not so much as act sad in front of Raoul. He could smell sadness like a bloodhound.

As he tore threw the threshold, the Vicomte threw his bag to the floor, chuckling with mirth at the familiar sights of home. " Christine! Christine! I'm home!" He ran about the house like a terrier searching for its owner. He found her in the parlor, fiddling with her diamond earbobs. Without a word, he threw his arms around the woman, both embracing the other in a rib-cracking hug. He stroked her hair, looking into her eyes. Something was not right.

" Christine, are you alright? You look positively petrified. Have you been crying?" She tried to look away, but her caught her. " I-I was…crying, for I missed you terribly and was so glad to hear of your return." The flimsy lie seemed to fly with him. She tried to hold back a fresh wave of sadness as her future husband told her his meaningless stories of the north. This was the way it had to be now. _I might as well get_ _used to it_ was what Christine told herself every minute, anticipating the time when she could see her baby again.


	8. Confusion, Cows, And Caring

Hello, people! I thank you deeply for all the reviews! Sob, that last chapter made me cry a. Kind of weird, because the last thing that made me cry had a little Jack Russell terrier in it. Oh, Skip!

Ch. 8: Confusion, Cows, and Caring

When the house of De Chagney disappeared into the early Parisian morning, Madame Giry took the baby from Meg. The child looked up at her with her confused bottle green eyes. She stroked the baby's head feverishly, trying to calm her down. Meg fiddled with the blanket restlessly. It was evident that Delight was looking for Christine.

As the fog drifted by the racing carriage, onlookers on sidewalks glared at them as the vehicle destroyed flowerbeds and nearly hit several statues. Erik yanked his cloak farther over his face, not wanting to take any chances with recognition of the mask. Scandal was the last thing any of them wanted.

With a precision that none would have suspected, the people in the opera house were easily fooled by Meg's excuses. She held the baby, claiming Delight to be a child she was caring for in favor of a friend. Madame Giry led Erik to his passageway for the cloak covered his eyes and was rendered blind. When the painting had slid from its frame to reveal the corridor, Meg and Madame Giry made a frightened parting glance, giving the baby to the masked man. " You do remember that promise you made to Christine, no?" The elder Giry said menacingly, her yellow eyes flashing. " Bad things will happen if harm comes to Delight. I will see to it myself if the occasion should arise." Erik nodded dumbly, sliding the painting shut quickly when the managers came strutting by. The Girys made nervous greetings as the pair passed, sighing with relief when the two fools were gone. The painting slid open again, an annoyed look on Erik's face.

" What do I do if she is hungry? I'm not exactly lactating." Cecile made a motion to slap him for his impudence, her lip thin with frustration.

"There is a cow in the stable of the opera house. Steal her and tether the beast by the edge of your lake. She will be fine." The man still looked confused. " B-but how do I-" he was cut off in mid question when the panel was slammed in his face, for another bothersome gaggle of idiots was making their way past.

"Blast!" Erik cursed. He held Delight out, looking at her with confusion. "I'm sure you have no idea how to milk a cow either, child" The baby stuck out her bottom lip, it quivering with upset. "Oh, no." Without another useless remark to the infant, he sprinted back down to his home below.

" Oh dear. What did I do now?" Erik muttered as Delight began to whimper again. He cradled his forehead in his hands. In an attempt to calm the baby, he had tried to rock her back to sleep, only finding that his white mask had frightened her, sending her into fits of howling. The only way, he found, to cure her of this phobia, was to get rid of it altogether. Much to his surprise, the mangled flesh of his scarred face did not scare her, but on the contrary, the infant seemed to find it amusing. Father dearest here had come to the conclusion that she was the only person who could laugh at him without fear.

Now, with feeding time at hand, Erik stared at the stolen cow with genuine mystification. The stupid beast stared back, chewing its cud lazily. He tested the waters, poking the udder with a stick. The cow, annoyed by this beating around the bush, began to low, its moos echoing around the subterranean chamber. "Oh, God," the phantom groaned, poking the udder again with his gloved finger. In response to this touch, the cow promptly kicked him in the shin.

"Dammit! Why you horrible beast!" Erik gave the cow a whack on the rump with the utilized stick. With a throbbing bruise rising on his leg, he did his best to milk the cow, putting the desired liquid into an oilskin funnel. The baby watched with a quiet amusement as her father limped back into the room, cursing under his breath. She devoured the meal, burping when through.

Erik, pleased with the success, put Delight in her makeshift cradle near the organ. She gazed at her father with infantile recognition, smiling her toothless smile. In the pit of his stomach, Erik felt something that was alien to him. It was adoration.

With an air of a professional, he sat down at the organ, cracking his fingers in preparation. " I believe a lullaby is in order, mademoiselle." Using his gift of music, the masked man eased the child into a restful state of peace.

Aw! I'm sorry if that absolutely made you sick. It was weird to write, I know. If it did make you nauseous, send your complaint to the following address:

1314 Indifference Lane

Apathy, GA 34528

P.O. Box who gives a rip 1243


	9. In the Rafters

This took a bit longer to think up. If it has no decadent flow, my apologies in advance are in order. Enjoy, hopefully. Oh, how I hate to do this!

P.T.O

This will be the last authors noteI write. I hear they are irksome, so I discontinuecommunication with readers.

Ch.9: In the Rafters

Christine tried her hardest to keep her composure. It was proving a difficult feat. Although this should have been the happiest day of her short life, a little pang of guilt always hovered near her head like a pesky mosquito. Swallowing her worries, the girl began her line.

" With this ring, I thee wed, Vicomte Raoul de Chagney, and take you to be my lawfully wedded husband" She slid the gold ring on his finger gently. Raoul looked about ready to burst with joy. The ancient preacher nodded in consent, and then boomed, " You have made your promise before the eyes of God. With the power invested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. Monsieur, you may kiss the bride."

The gathering stood up and cheered when their lips met. As the newlyweds trotted down the isle, a figure sitting silently in the rafters clapped inaudibly. Christine looked back, her sparkling eyes scanning the ornate ceiling. A dark shape emerged into the light, and then nodded his reluctant congratulations before shrinking back into the darkness. She almost waved, but thought the gesture to be far too blatant, so she nodded in return before taking Raoul's hand and running out into the arms of loving relatives and friends.

Meg emerged from the multitude, her smile almost too big for her small face. " Christine! Oh, congratulations! How I will miss having you around the opera house!" Christine embraced her friend, assuring her that she would be around for companionship. As she greeted other comrades, she looked back into the empty church and whispered, " Goodbye, Erik."

As he watched the young pair sashay down the isle to the rest of their lives, Delight began to coo impatiently under the blankets in which she was swaddled. Erik hushed her absentmindedly, wiping stubborn tears from his eyes. _There's no reason to be jealous,_ he mused bitterly,_ I've got Delli here. The pair of them can hang for all I care. _Without another glance at the crowd, he disappeared with a swish of his cloak, only noticed by the piteous young Giry, who shook her head.

When he returned to his home, Erik was in a right state. He put the baby in her crib and plopped himself on his organ bench, preparing to drown himself in the measures of fantasy. Delight watched curiously with her big green eyes, blowing raspberries in agreement. The man lost track of time until a hand rested on his shoulder. It was Madame Giry. She folded her arms in irritation.

" You can't do this," She said acidly, surprising Erik. " You can't pine for something that was never yours. It's their life now, which has no place for you. Can't you just accept that?" She had not come here to pity him, but to give him a lecture like some troublesome adolescent

He turned away, plucking Delight out of her cradle. The now three month-old continued to doze, unaware of any changes in environment. " You have a baby to raise. Do you want her to grow up with a moping father?" Cecile continued, flipping her braid indignantly. This struck a nerve. " I do not mope! How dare you come here and suggest such a thing?" The baby's eyes popped open at the rising tone of Erik's voice, narrowing in frustration.

" If your wish was to come here and preach to me about what I can and can't do, you are not welcome. Go." He waved her off as he awkwardly tried to comfort the wailing child. Cecile stalked off without another word, discreetly stealing an inkwell on her way out.

When the sound of her footsteps had died away and Delli was fast asleep once more, Erik sank to his knees, throwing up his hands in mock surrender. This visit was most upsetting because deep down, he knew she was right.


	10. A Fateful Visit

Ch. 10: A Fateful Visit

" Papa, what are you doing?" Delight stared at him with her big green eyes, her eyebrows high with question. Erik had been currently painting a picture about nobody in particular. These paintings began as blurs of shade and color, but always somehow ended up as crude renditions of Christine. That was usually how his easels and canvases ended up as firewood. The five year old jammed her thumb in her mouth expectantly, her jet-black curls framing her curiosity. He had begun to stutter some indecipherable excuse when the child surprisingly read him like a book. " You were thinking about Christine again, weren't you, papa?" The masked man forced a you-got-me smile, picking up the girl. He had taught her to call her mother by her first name because her visits weren't half as painful when she did.

" Yes, child, I was thinking of her. Weren't you supposed to be practicing your scales?" Delight's eyes widened in forged innocence, preparing some elaborate lie. " Then go, Delli, and finish. I won't stand for laziness. Go, leave me be." Erik put the girl down. The child scuttled off, kicking up dust in her wake. Within moments, a strange squeaking sound came floating under the crack in the door. It was strangely ironic, her being his child, for she had not shown an inkling of musical talent, but he would not give up.

When the weak notes became loud enough, Erik snapped the portrait across his knee and threw it in the fire. He watched as the painting curled into a black char, letting smoke billow in his face.

Without another word, he strode into the next room and stopped Delight's lesson. " Delli, can you tell me what day it is? I have no idea." The girl rubbed her chin in mock thought. " It's the twenty-first of June, Papa." How she knew this, he had no idea, but they had to leave. It was Gala night, and he promised Christine he would bring Delight for a visit after the show. She had not seen her baby for three months, so this was not an occasion to be missed.

" Come on then, put on your blue dress, we're going to pay Christine a visit." The child stared, and then narrowed her eyes. " Why do I have to come? I don't even know her. Who is she, anyway?" Delight had a stunningly vast vocabulary for somebody barely out of toddler age, but used it against her teacher.

Erik felt a lump rise in his throat. It was heartbreaking that she didn't know who her own mother was. " Don't talk like that! You must come, no arguments." Delight folded her short arms. " But who is she?" the question was repeated. There was no avoiding this. " Sh-she's your, erm, oh, we'll tell you later. Come along now!"

Delight scampered into the next room, returning with the dress on backwards. Erik corrected the fault, putting her in the boat and warning her not to fall in. It was astounding the way he had raised Delight, when just five years ago he could scarcely take care of himself. The girl sulked in the bottom of the boat, ego still bruised. She definitely possessed Erik's temper above all traits.

As she finished her song, Christine let the final note of vibrato run around the theater. The usual ovation followed, and she bowed gracefully from the stage, pausing to smile at the beaming Vicomte in box 8. Before the curtain diverted he view, she saw two dark figures, one very short, appear on the circular balcony near he ceiling. The short one was tugging on the trousers of the tall one, pointing at her. The tall one nodded, and then led the child through the door in the convex wall. They were coming.

Hurrying her thanks to admirers, she raced back to her dressing room and locked the door. Racing to clean herself up, Christine forced a simple green frock over her head. A soft knock sounded at her mirror, sliding open before she could say anything. Erik stepped out, holding Delight's small hand in his. She felt her heart soar at the sight of the pair, not sure who she was happier to see. " Delli, it's splendid to see you again!" the woman cried as she took the child in her arms. She felt uncertainty in the girl's returned embrace, releasing her.

" What's wrong?" She could not keep the hurt out of her voice. Erik turned away, fiddling unnecessarily with the collar of his cape. Delight studied Christine thoughtfully, and then said, " Who are you?" There was genuine confusion in her voice.

Christine clapped a hand over her mouth, turning to glare at the fidgeting man in the corner. " Erik, you mean to tell me she has no earthly idea who I am? Why haven't you told her?" He stopped toying with his collar. " I-I thought you should be the one to tell her! After all, she's your-" He was abruptly cut off when the door handle began to jiggle.

" Christine? Are you in there? I have a surprise for you!" Raoul's voice rang out at the locked door. Erik, horrified, leapt back into the passage and slammed the mirror shut. Delight stood transfixed next to her mother as the door swung open. Raoul entered, a ring of keys jingling in his hand.

" Christine, I've got something to- hello, there, who's this?" His bright gaze inferred to the staring child. Christine was at a loss for words, her face deathly pale. Delight was not so shy. She stepped forward, smoothing her shabby dress in an airy fashion. " My name is Delight. I suppose I'm Christine's friend. Who are you, dare I ask?" Her impudent tone clearly shocked the Vicomte, his smile wavering for only moment. " I'm Raoul, Christine's husband, and it's a pleasure to meet you." Delight continued to stare. " Oh, I think I know you! My papa tells me you're a-" Christine clapped a hand over the girl's mouth, laughing nervously.

" Such a silly child! Now Raoul, run along and wait for me outside. I won't be but a moment." Raoul looked confused, but then bowed out of the tiny room, making his goodbyes to Delight. Christine locked the door again and then slumped against it. Erik stepped out of the mirror, mopping sweat from his neck. Christine whirled to face him, her eyes blazing.

" Why did you tell her bad things about Raoul? She will repeat everything you say!" Her voice suddenly got high and cracked. She was crying. Erik looked surprised, but not in the least bit displeased. " Delli, run along back to the boat and wait for me. I want to help Christine with something." The girl ran off through the passageway, her shoes clattering all the way.

He helped the woman to her feet, wiping tears from her ivory cheeks. " I told her those things about him because, God help me, I'm jealous of him." His answer seemed to shock her. Before she could say anything, Erik kissed her gently on the lips, scattering her thoughts like leaves in the wind. She returned the passion, her tears suddenly dying up. When their lips parted, he strode through the mirror, not looking back. " Have a nice life, Vicomtess." Was his parting statement, " Because I'm sure as hell not going to be a part of it. Just know that I love you and will never stop loving you. Worry not about Delli. The angel of music has her under his wing."

**Fin. ?**


	11. IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE!

This is not part of the story! well, I've stopped it there and began again under a new title. The new installment is called Voice of Heaven and Hell. It's basically what happened after the kiss at the end of The Fatherless Child. I can guarantee more than 1 chapter, but it may take some time.

I remain your obedient authoress,

Ella O' hara


End file.
